AmnesiaStuck
by tentillAftershock
Summary: Your name is...who are you? Why is it so dark and what the HELL is that smell? Are you alone? What the heck happened to you?
1. Wake up

_I don't know if there are any other amnesiaXhomestuck character stories out there or anything, but this is something I wrote on a whim while drawing a picture of XXXX holding a lantern. My point is, if this is in any way related to anyone else's work, just know I had no intention of copying you. I've only read Homestuck fanfiction like…twice…yeah, wake me up. It's pretty obvious who XXXX is considering story quirks and well…that tag up there. I'm not sure why I even bother except that well, he doesn't know, and technically he is you cuz 2__nd__ person, but whatever._

_Cover Art: me. It's the only fully colored picture of Dave I had finished, so it was the only one I could use. It really has nothing to do with this story though._

_Disclaimer: I do not own any Homestuck characters referenced in this little story, but I doubt there is a problem with using them considering it's Homestuck._

* * *

**[?]: Wake up.**

* * *

Your name is…who are you?

The air is musty and heavy, and it's so dark, you can't tell if your eyes are open or closed. You try to recall anything about what's happening to you or where you are, but all you are getting is a migraine powerful enough to make you cringe in on yourself. Instinctively, you reach up to adjust a pair of sunglasses you assume are on your face, but your arms won't move. Nothing is coming into focus and the world is refusing to stand still.

A nagging fear begins to overtake you and you quickly start to struggle and pull at whatever is holding you back. You hear the sound of jingling chains and a jabbing pain suddenly shoots down both your arms. You can feel a hot liquid slowly running down your arms and panic settles in. You can't help but cry out in pain and anxiety despite an inner feeling that that's not like you.

You try to calm yourself and take your time taking slow wavering breaths…but it stings. You might as well be breathing in acid. You gag a few times at the nauseating taste of the air and try to lift your head in the direction you believe is up. A drop of a different liquid falls on your face and you twitch a little at the contact. Normally, panic might have taken over, but the coolness and familiar feeling of the droplet of water now gently sliding down your face actually calms you. As your head begins to settle, you realize that you are propped against a wall with your arms chained above you. That took you long enough you think. How in the heck did you get here?

The hot liquid suddenly reaches your shoulders and the smell of metal and something sickeningly sweet begins to waft into your nose. Blood? That little bit of struggling shouldn't have been enough to already draw blood. What is wrong with you? You pause for a little and it hits you. It's not just you. That smell that nearly choked you…that smell that seemed to permeate the air with pain…that smell is everywhere, but there is something else. Something sour? No…not exactly…it's something rotting. You already know what it is, but you don't want to think about it. Where are you? Why are you here? Who ARE you?

You attempt to calm your mind by focusing on remembering who you are at least. You cannot shake the feeling that finding out who you are might not be as easy as you'd hope, but you need answers.

Your name is…f*ck…It's no use. It's not coming to you.

You think you are 21…at least, that's what you were as recently as you can remember. You were a transfer student at a university in California. Which one was it…you can't remember. Your best friend was your roommate…JOHN! Oh SHIT! He better not have gotten dragged into whatever the hell is happening with you.

Now that you think about it, what made you think you were by yourself? If this sour smell wasn't coming from you, or at least, you hoped it wasn't, who else was down here?

Suddenly, a sharp pain rivets up your body and you realize you are sitting in a puddle of some kind of goopy liquid.

Why can't you feel your legs?

No, that's not…come on…that's going a little far isn't it. A dread you thought could never fall over you overtakes your entire consciousness and whatever happened next, you can't remember. There is the sound of shattering metal and then frantic clawing. Flashes of snaking corridors and spiraling staircases swirl around your vision like a kaleidoscope. Darkness blankets your mind and body and somewhere as if stifled by layers of cloth, a deep howling growl permeates the air around you. All you know is that when pain finally overtook fear, you woke up lying, face-down on a cold, damp floor. All you can hear is your rasping, uneven breaths, driving arrhythmia, and a gentle consistent drip. The same smell of decay lingers in the air, but it is a little easier to breathe here. You groggily attempt to turn your head and figure out your surroundings, but the pain holds fast and nothing will listen to you. You try your arms next, but it's no better.

You lie there with your face against the floor listening to the sounds of your breath stirring the dirt stuck in the cracks in the stonework and concentrating on the feeling of your head against the ground.

The pain recedes a little and you sluggishly roll yourself over to stare at…

Holy fuck.

You can feel your body heave a little and your hands instinctually snap to cover your mouth. As far as you can see, bodies…at least you think they are human bodies…are dangling like ragdolls from hooks scattered across the ceiling. Their blood trickles down their mangled bodies onto the blood-stained floor, revealing the source of the rhythmic dripping noise. Without thinking, your legs push you back against a wall where you struggle just to keep from screaming.

As you sit there rocking back and forth, you realize you still have legs to rock you back and forth. You manage to rip your eyes away from the gruesome scene in front of you and get a good look at yourself for the first time. Your hands are still in one piece, torn and bleeding, but in one piece. Your wrists have seen better days, and the cuffs are still stuck fast, but a set of chains dangles from both and you realize you must have snapped the chains clean in half back in wherever you were. Even if it was adrenaline pumped, not bad. Maybe those lessons from that horse-obsessed guy at school weren't all a giant waste of your time.

A horse-obsessed guy? You're not sure, but seems typical of you to remember some useless memories such as those and not the important stuff about who you are.

You move your hands to your face. Your face is still intact, though still missing the particularly righteous pair of shades you had habitually tried to adjust earlier…yeah, that's how you'd describe them…a surprisingly ironic present from John. You probably look like crap, but at least you don't look like…well there are a lot of examples around you.

You breathe a sigh of relief as you look over your perfectly attached legs, still completely capable of taking you out of this hell hole. They're pretty scratched up, but nothing seems broken. And…thank whatever gods…you're wearing something. Everything's in tatters and you'll definitely be on the lookout for some new duds, but at least you're not naked. It looks like the remains of what used to be lose-fitting brown cotton pants and a casual red collared jacket. What were you doing before this happened to you? Going out for a midnight snack? If John is somewhere down here, you would've hated to run into him stark naked…although…irony? Why are you thinking about this right now?

Despite the disturbing scene around you, you lean back against the wall and casually take a look around you. Now that you've cleared your head a little, the world has stopped spinning and you find that you finally have full control of all parts of your body.

You are in a dimly lit large hall that appears to be some kind of underground prison or torture chamber…or both; you really think it's both. The walls are covered in blood and water stains, and it is dead silent save for the sluggish dripping sound of the blood falling all around. There is another hallway in front of you, but you can't see more than a couple feet down it. Beyond the haze of light from your current hallway, all you can see is darkness darker than black. It somehow feels heavy…like if you were to take one step into it, you'd be crushed by the sheer force of its immersion.

You can't help but push up against the wall a little more, retracting your feet as far away from the darkness as possible. That must have been where you came from, and you have no intention of going back there.

Gathering your strength, you pull yourself off the ground, sliding cautiously and tentatively up the wall, making sure your legs don't give out on you half way. You manage to stand up as straight as you can and take a few hobbling steps towards the nearest light source. It is a small candle, barely lit and almost completely out of wax, but seeing as none of the others are any better, you might as well take this one.

How long were you down here anyways? You realize you have no idea. For all you know, you might not be 21 anymore; though you have a feeling it's only been a couple of days tops. Whatever the case is, you need to get out of here.

Other than the dark hallway from whence you assume you came, the hallway branches in two directions. The way to your left is lit by more fading candles, but the right side is completely black save for a small light way off in the distance. At the end of the left tunnel, there is a spiral staircase leading upwards. You can't tell what is at the end of the right tunnel. Under these circumstances, you would normally head straight for the spiral staircase, but there was something about the way the air smelled in that direction that screamed and yanked at you to run in the other direction.

Smell…all these smells which reveal information, stories, and warnings. When did your sense of smell get this good? You can't remember who it was that taught you, but you'll be sure to thank her if you get through this ordeal alive. Her skill might come in handy here…her? Yes, a girl from school probably.

You take a steadying breath and silently begin moving down the hallway to your right. You trail your right hand against the wall while holding the candle in your left, making sure that you never lose track of the light at the far end of the tunnel. Every sense in your body is on high alert and you can feel every hair stiffening and rising as you head further and further into the darkness.

Your candle provides just enough light to see the ground you are walking on, but you can barely see a few feet in either direction. This is almost more frightening to you than walking in pitch blackness because if something does appear in your little space of light, it might as well be right in your face.

You are making good progress and you can see the light getting closer, but you can't help but feel something is off. Why were candles lighting up that passageway? Doesn't that mean someone had to be using it? Would someone really just leave you there without any guards or any other prisoners? Shouldn't there be someone else here? Assuming that is so, where are they?

Suddenly, your hand brushes up against something freezing cold and slimy, and you instantly recoil and smother your candle. The darkness envelopes you as you jam yourself down against the floor devoting all your energy towards suppressing your scream. You wait for a few seconds, straining your ears for any signs of movement, but nothing happens; even the drips of blood are distant and barely audible.

Since the coast seems to be clear and you've calmed down a little bit, you wearily take out your candle.

Great, good fucking job you colossal masterpiece of intelligence.

Now what are you going to use for light?

Even if you wanted to see what your hand brushed up against, you can't see anything now. You glance back at the candles still burning behind you but figure if you don't press on now, you're never going to get going. You'll hold onto the candle, maybe you'll come across another light source, and it doesn't hurt to have extra. Gathering the broken pieces of your courage together, you place your hand back against the wall and gingerly push yourself back up, continuing towards the light. Your hand meets the slimy substance for a second time, and you can't help but snap away from the wall again. There's something not right about this stuff. It was freezing cold before, cold to the point where if it had been made of metal, you'd probably have ripped your stuck fingertips off in your recoil. Now, however, it was boiling hot. You can still feel the tips of your fingers throb a little as the burning sensation slowly fades.

As much as you hate to put yourself in the open, you doubt the wall is any safer at this point. Silently and cautiously, you slink your way down the center of the pathway, your vision fixed on the light at the other end.

As you inch along, your mind begins to wander. What kind of person would do this to you and all those people back there? Is it even a person? Is John ok? Did any of your other friends get involved? Do you have any family? Will they worry? What's your favorite food? Did you like pizza? You could really go for some pizza.

Oh god you're hungry.

Your stomach lets out a low growl and the noise startles you. You instantly recoil and crouch down on the ground clutching at your stomach in a vain attempt to shut it up. The noise subsides, but you remain pressed against the cold ground straining your ears for any sounds that don't belong to you.

What seems like several minutes goes by before you decide it's safe to get up. You slowly drag yourself off the ground and glance around nervously, but nothing stirs. You let a long sigh escape your mouth.

At this rate, you are never going to reach the light at the end of the tunnel. Wait, what did you just think? Worst saying ever, you think. You grip the unlit candle close to your chest like a protective charm and take a step forward, but that's when you hear it.

A low guttural growl like a hungry beast choking on its own saliva echoes down the hallway from behind you. Every hair on your body begins to stand on end and you slowly turn to face the hall of candles now a ways off. You feel your heart freeze in your chest as a hobbling shadow appears on the spiral staircase at the end of that hall. You want to run, but your body won't move. You can feel your legs quivering beneath you and your hands moistening with a cold sweat as you watch the creature slowly move into the light.

You don't think you've ever wanted to scream before in your life, but right now, it is taking everything in your power to keep yourself from exploding in fear. It is not the giant claw that is its left hand, the multiple sections of its body that are rotting away where flesh should've been, its misshapen eyes, or even its dilapidated jaw. It is its humanoid appearance. It looks like a person that caved in on themselves and then began to fall apart.

It sluggishly begins hobbling down the hall but suddenly stops and faces straight in your direction. You feel the rest of the color drain out of your body and the world begins to spin around you.

No…don't pass out…you won't get up again…No…stop…

It lets out another low growl but slowly turns and makes its way down the dark hallway you escaped from.

You stand there frozen in fear and shock as you listen to its dragging footsteps slowly fading into the distance, but then your legs finally give out on you and you feel your consciousness blink out. You're only out for a moment as your face collides with the ground and the impact snaps you back awake.

The pain rings out just for a second as you quickly gather yourself back together. You can't be like this. You can't stay here this time. There is no longer any time for apprehension or freezing up. If you don't get away now, if you don't press forward, you are going to die.

Gritting your teeth, you launch yourself back on your feet and, without looking back, sprint towards the faint light at the end of the hall. You quickly reach the end and burst into a sea of orange light, almost falling straight into the pit where the light was coming from. Swaying on the edge of the pathway, you quickly lean backwards and grab onto the wall. Taking a deep breath, the same sour, acid-like smell from the room you were chained in rushes into your lungs and you gag and splutter as you glance over the edge.

Bodies…There are bodies piled haphazardly covering the bottom of the pit which is lit by a couple torches burning steadily along the walls. The bodies' limbs are contorted and those with discernable faces are drained and blank with expressions of fear and pain the likes of which you could only liken to an encounter with that creature from before. Some of them are mangled beyond recognition of being human. Others are burned, their skin bubbled-looking and peeling off in sections. Some are whole but are sickly inhuman colors of yellows, greens, and rotting purples.

You can't help it; you fall to your knees, turn around, and heave. What is this place? What is going on here? Why were you brought here? If you hadn't escaped, is this what that creature would have done with you? Is it the one doing all this or is something controlling it?

You take only a minute to collect yourself. You have to keep moving. That creature is still back there and even if it is not coming this way right now, who's to say it won't. You have to find a way around this pit but there are no ledges around the rim of it. You can see another hallway directly across from you but there are no paths leading there. Every immediate thought in your head is urging you to give it up, but you look closer down into the pit and notice a couple stones jutting out on the other side which you could use to reach the other hallway.

As much as you do not want to walk down there, you need to press on, and at least this way, you can get one of those torches too. Personal morals aside, you have to walk on those people. You muster your courage and jump down.

It is so much worse than you'd thought it'd be.

The stench is overwhelming your senses and the moment your hand makes contact with one of the bodies, you can feel your stomach lurch in response. You can feel what was left of the people beneath you sag and crack as your bare feet roll over their withering corpses. You don't know how you did it and most of the journey is foggy at best as your mind was so numb by the time you even got half-way that most of it was done in a daze. Several times, as you made your way across the pile, the bodies would slip to the side in response and you'd fall knee-deep in corpses. It felt like zombies grabbing at your ankles and rubbing against your legs trying to pull you down into their midst. You'd struggle and yank yourself out only to roll across more of them and end up face to face with blank stares of horror.

Somehow, you make it to a wall, pull down a torch, dazedly hold it in your mouth, and quickly struggle up the jutting-out stones and into the archway of the other hallway. You can't think. Your mind refuses to feel. The only thing you can think of is to move forward.

You absently hold the torch up in front of you and sluggishly drag your body forward. There is a door with no windows on the side of the hallway a little ways in and without a thought, you simply open it and walk inside. It is a closed off room with nothing in it save for a work desk in one corner and a bookshelf bereft of books in another.

Stone-eyed, you close the door behind you, stick the torch in a socket on the wall, and pass out on the floor.


	2. Meet Calvin

**[?]: Meet Calvin**

* * *

You are running. You don't have any idea where you are going. Behind you, the sound of dragging footsteps echoes and lurches towards you at breakneck speed. It is too much. You can't run anymore. You feel your legs give out on you and then they are on top of you. Claws rip into your skin and your head becomes a ringing cacophony of thunderous pain as you feel your body smash into a wall. Blood seeps out of giant gash wounds in your back, but you can't tell if that's your back or your front as your leg is facing the wrong direction. You feel one of them wrap its hand around your twisted leg and drag you unceremoniously across the freezing ground. You are airborne for a couple seconds before you impact something slimy and squishy and the air gets knocked out of your lungs. With what's left of your consciousness, you look to your left and the eyes of a fellow victim stare with blank horror back at you. You feel hands begin groping at your body and feel yourself sinking deeper into the mounds of flesh around you. You try to call out, but your mouth is already filled with pools of your own blood. The mounds of bodies close in around you and you can't breathe. You can't move. It hurts.

Gasping for breath, your eyes snap open.

You can feel your heart still pounding in your chest and your breathing is ragged and strained. You are covered in a cold sweat and you shiver in response.

It was just a nightmare. You're ok. You're not bleeding anywhere and you're not drowning in a pit of bodies…but you're not at home either.

You shakily prop yourself into a sitting position and take a look around you. You are in a small room. A torch is steadily burning on a wall near a door with no windows and there is a desk and a bookshelf on one side of the room. How did you get here?

You realize you are clutching something in your hand and reveal a candle. It is unlit and only about a third of it is left, but it feels comforting. You glance down at the shackles still clamped to your wrists and suddenly, everything comes back to you and you jump to your feet. You stand there listening for a couple seconds, but the only sound comes from the torch on the wall. This room seems safe enough at least for now.

There is a chair sitting next to the desk and you sit yourself down in it. Luckily, it is not rotten, so it holds up your weight with no problems. You take a moment to gather your thoughts and calm your mind. You still have no clue who you are save for some little details and have no real plan for how to get out of here.

That pit…you can't get that pit out of your mind. Who would do such a thing? Just thinking about it makes your hands shake and you quickly try to focus your mind elsewhere.

You wonder how long you were out. It can't have been too long since the torch is still burning strongly, but it couldn't have been only for a moment because your body feels stiff, not just physically tired stiff from the strenuous situations you were in before, but you slept on a hard ground for a couple hours kind of stiff. Regardless, nothing seems to have found you. You were lucky.

You absentmindedly shift the unlit candle around in your hands and stare at the contours in the wood of the desk. You know you have to get moving, but you know the moment you step out that door, it will be a continuous life and death struggle with both your body and mind in hellish torture. Maybe just a little longer…

Resting your head on the desk, you close your eyes and listen to the soft crackle of the torch on the wall behind you. If only things could stay this peaceful. If only you could rest in relative comfort for even a couple minutes, but the moment you begin to doze off, the nightmares return. You wearily push yourself back up into a sitting position and start checking the drawers of the desk. If you are not going to spend the last relatively peaceful moments of maybe your life sleeping, you might as well do a little investigating. You don't know what exactly you're looking for, but you never know what you might find.

In the top drawer, there is a bundle of crumbling papers tied together by a string. You pull them out, gently untie the string, and begin sifting through them. Most of them are so faded and decomposing, you can't make out anything, but there are words here and there that you can catch. They seem to be a series of journal entries dating back almost fifty years written by a certain Calvin Finley. Of the ones you can read, most of them are about superficial things such as chores being done in some castle or complaints about work load.

Then one of them catches your eye. The writing has changed a little. You can tell it's still Calvin's, but the writing style is much more rushed and sloppy and jumps around a lot as if he couldn't get his thoughts straight.

"…wine…!... blood…..Michael…he started bleeding from all over….trapped down here…Charles said he doesn't feel very good either…..master locked the door and blocked it with something…why?...can't stay here…..weird noises that send chills up my spine…running out of torches…..have to find a way out….."

You can feel the hair standing up on the back of your neck and glance around the room as if you were doing something inappropriate. You are afraid to read more, but there might be something that can help you. You flip through a couple more pages with the sloppy handwriting until you find another you can read.

"George says there's a way out through the side of the castle…I agreed…..been there before when taking out some stockroom supplies…..need to get to upper floors….like a labyrinth down here…Charles could barely walk today….."

So you are in a castle, and there's a way out! You hurriedly sift through the entries for another legible one and continue reading.

"Charles!...oh god…flesh started peeling away…..jaw unhinged….started caving in….his hand!...what is happening?...started going crazy…killed Jack…..George and I ran…could hear screams of the others behind us…"

The enthusiasm from before is quickly stifled by a sharp chill as it shoots down your spine again. So that uneasy feeling you got when you first saw that thing was correct. It was human! You can feel your stomach churning in response and put down the papers. You pick up the unlit candle again and clutch it in your hands to steady your emotions. For some reason, it reminds you of warmth and happier times and was the first thing that helped calm you down when you first began exploring this hell hole.

Are you going to turn into one of those things? What's going to happen to you? Does that escape route really exist? How do you get to the upper floors? All these questions begin spinning around in your head. Even if it is bad, you have to read more. You put down the candle and pick up the papers again and read on.

"…..dead….George fell….slashed to pieces…couldn't do anything….they're all dead…..they are lucky…the things are everywhere….so fast…nearly slashed me in half but I fell into a pit…filled with bodies…..don't even care…so dark…haven't eaten in perhaps days….so thirsty…howling….echoing…need sleep….can't stop….."

"…darkness…pain everywhere…..head going to explode…just want to sleep…just want to die…..can't…"

The entries end there. You try to tell yourself that it'll be different for you. You'll get out for sure. You'll go back to school. Everything will be normal…but you can feel yourself shaking. Is this how it's going to end for you too? Are you already left here alone to slowly go mad until you either die or turn into one of those freakish monsters? No…there has to be a way out. Maybe there's more.

Gathering your willpower, you open the next drawer. There are more papers, but these aren't tied neatly in a bundle. Instead, they are tossed haphazardly in the drawer. The writing is Calvin's from before but this time, it is barely legible. Most of it is chicken scratch and none of them are more than a couple lines.

"not so dark anymore…piece of skin fell off…so hungry….tasted good…..maybe try pit…."

"…..he came…..give me food…..tasty…..say strong…tell me to kill woman…..gave me more food….so nice….."

"…mre kill…..fel goood…hed hrt gain….."

"arm gon….masr gv mtl arm….mre kill…..tasty…hed kil me….."

"Hed….."

What?

What is going on here? Calvin apparently was not immune to whatever it was that turned all of them into monsters and it had eventually caught up with him, but more disturbing was the slow degradation of his humanity coaxed along by some "he." So there is a mastermind behind all this. What did they want with you? Why a random college student from California? None of this makes any sense. Who ARE you?

In a daze, you slowly close the drawer and stare at the wall. This whole situation is insane. How are you supposed to get out of here? Calvin mentioned needing to go upstairs and that he encountered the hidden exit when taking out stockroom supplies, but that could be anywhere. What are you supposed to do? If it was just a matter of exploring, it would be no problem, but according to the letter, there are multiple monsters scouring the depths down here and apparently even Calvin himself. If it was a labyrinth for them, what's it going to be like for you?

You clutch your hands to your head in frustration and rest your head back on the desk. Would it be better if you just let it happen? Should you just wait here until you starve to death or a monster finds you? So many questions and you can't come up with an answer to a single one.

The torch suddenly gives a loud pop behind you and snaps you out of your daydreaming despair. The unlit candle sits undisturbed on the desk, silently waiting for you to pick up all your pieces. You reach out and rub your finger over the cool wax. What are you thinking? Like you'll let it end like this.

You reopen the drawer and search around for anything you can poke a hole with. A loose nail juts out of part of the drawer and you wrench it loose. Neatly and methodically, you drill a smooth thin tunnel through the top half of the candle, making sure to avoid the wick. Snatching the string used to tie Calvin's earlier entries, you gently thread it through the tunnel and tightly knot the two ends together. You won't use this candle until you can't take anymore of this.

You place the candle around your neck and sluggishly push yourself out of the chair. You'd like to take Calvin's entries with you, but…what is that? Tucked away underneath the desk, a small messenger bag lies worn but completely usable. You quickly move the chair out of the way and drag the bag out from under the desk. Dusting it off, you can only assume it was Calvin's. It's old and plain and is definitely not the type of bag you'd bring to school unless you were Indiana Jones or something, but you sling it over your neck and let it fall to your side. Gathering Calvin's notes, you place them into an inner pocket in the bag and head towards the door.

You carefully lift the torch from its place on the wall and press your ear against the door. This is it. Once you step through this door, you'll probably never get another moment like this again. Nothing seems to be stirring outside in the hall and your sense of smell that saved you before isn't giving you any signs of danger as of yet, so you place your hand on the doorknob and walk out into the hall.

* * *

_All this stuff is a little convenient, but hey, game logic. Calvin is less an OC and more of just so I could give the monsters names for no reason other than give XXXX and co. the ability to crack smart aleck comments at them later._

_So did that series of journal entries bring up memories of "itchy, scratchy" Resident Evil reports? Well, it was the same concept, the slow degradation of one's humanity, so yeah._

_I never finished writing this, and I haven't touched it in years. I never even got to the part where XXXX even meets John and Karkat. I'll try if you want, but I'm kind of out of my Homestuck obsession right now, so my inspiration is lacking. I do have the first part of the next chapter written and John and Karkat were coming up in perhaps that chapter? Karkat might've been the next one…I don't know what I was planning; this was so long ago…_


	3. Survive

_I don't know why I suddenly decided I wanted to update this particular story, but I did._

* * *

**[?]: Survive**

The hallway is cold and oppressive as you step out of Calvin's sanctuary, but you feel almost relieved. You were half expecting to walk out right into the claw of one of those monsters, so a dark empty hallway is almost inviting. It seems to be a long corridor with the torchlight from the pit on one end and darkness down the other. You have no intention of going back towards that pit, so you grip the unlit candle now dangling around your neck and slowly make your way into the blackness of the corridor.

There are several doors along the way and although it makes you nervous every time you open one, you can't leave a room unchecked. Most of them are completely barren except a few which are like Calvin's desk room. You must be in the servant work area or something in the basement of the castle. What purpose that pit used to function as, you can only assume it was some kind of drainage channel or something.

Keeping your senses on high alert, you make your way down the corridor until the path abruptly splits in front of you. There are faded signs pointing in the different directions. The one pointing towards the right says "cell area IV" while the one to the left says "kitchen."

"Kitchen" sounds much more appealing to you and you could really go for some food, but down here, you can never be sure. The last time you had a choice between going someplace nice or someplace dark and oppressive, a monster walked out of the nice place.

It seemed to work last time, so you begin to smell the air coming from both passageways. The kitchen way isn't giving you any bad vibes, but the moment you turn towards "cell area IV," a shiver shoots down your spine and you can feel your body freeze up. This is anxiety to a level you never thought you could feel. Before you even begin to make a conscious decision, your body begins moving in the direction of the so-called "kitchen." Whatever encounters await you there could not possibly be as bad as whatever is lurking in cell area IV.

Shaking off your apprehension, you gather your courage and walk a little more relaxed towards the kitchen. You begin to truly take in your surroundings, calmly observing the walls, the ceiling, the floor, never looking back. Everything seems to be made of hard stone with wooden supports here and there. Water stains and mildew line the walls and ceiling and dusty cobwebs stretch abandoned in any available corners. If there is a room, they all seem to be barely furnished and only rotting reading books or cracked desk supplies remain.

There aren't as many rooms down this hallway, and a lot of them seemed to be locked. You're not about to make a lot of noise trying to force them open, so you just leave them alone and move on. Straining your ears as you move, the only sounds are the occasional scampering rat or slow drip of water and the light crack of your torch.

As you continue staring at the walls, it reminds you. Tentatively, you reach out your hand and gently place your fingertips against the wall. You recoil quickly, but no burning or freezing sensation occurs. You reach out with more confidence this time and place your entire palm against the wall, slowly moving your fingers across it. It's just a normal wall. You wonder what you touched back in that hallway you first really woke up in.

The air is musty but chilling and an unnerving feeling of emptiness lingers in the darkness beyond your torch. It is a lonely emptiness, but at the same time, it is an emptiness encompassed by an omniscient presence that feels like it lives within the very walls. You can't shake that you are constantly being watched.

You continue towards the kitchen, never deviating from your path except to check the occasional empty room. The path branches several times, but you pass them by, always following the kitchen signs but marking every one to show which path you took and that you've already been there. Calvin mentioned it was a labyrinth down here; you can't be too careful.

Suddenly, a low guttural sound echoes down the hall, and you quickly grab your stomach as if that would shut it up. You knew you were hungry, but you figured your body would know to keep quiet. You guess nature couldn't help it. The kitchen just sounds better and better. You hope there's still edible food in there, a pantry, even stale canned goods, maybe even fresh water.

You hurry down the passageways away from the spot your stomach decided to make a racket just in case something heard you and come across some stairs leading up towards a semi-lit room. A sign above the door reads "Kitchen."

You cautiously prop the door open, slowly peer inside, and breathe a sigh of relief. You had half expected the kitchen to either not exist or be some terrible spin off of the word and be a torture room. A pot hangs over an unlit fire pit and boxes lie stacked in a nearby corner. There is a single torch burning low against the opposite wall shining only a little light across the large room. Pushing the door a little further, you can see some kind of what you hope is just wild animal meat hanging in the back corner of the room and a couple of pantry shelves propped against the right wall. It appears to be empty, so you walk in and close the door behind you.

It's a pretty big room. There are even some tables in one corner for cutting and preparing and it's surprisingly neat. You expected a place like a kitchen to be completely ransacked and destroyed.

You can't eat the meat, but you hurriedly run over to the pantry shelves to see if there is anything salvageable. You think you counted your chickens way too early before they hatched. Not a single thing is intact on these shelves. The canned goods you were hoping might be salvageable have all been cracked and the remnants of the jars lay spewed around the shelves. A flurry of flies buzzes around the remains still decomposing what's left of the rotting piles of food.

Disheartened, you drag yourself over to the edge of the fire pit and sit, sticking your torch into the embers. You'd light another fire except that you wouldn't want to attract any unwanted attention. You're trying to make a decision.

You absentmindedly fiddle with the candle around your neck and stare at the pantries in front of you. You might not ever find any kind of food again. You can't pass up this opportunity, but what if this kind of rotten food just poisons you to death anyways? You can't afford to get sick in this place. You rest your chin on your hands and glare daggers at the food. Maybe you should check one more time. Maybe you missed something.

You leave your torch burning in the pit and walk back over to the pantries. You begin methodically moving all the debris and completely rotten food off of the shelves making sure not to touch any of the rotting food directly. Behind a particularly nasty pile of molding apples, you come across a loose stone. Pushing it in, you hear a loud click and a portion of the wall begins to slide out. The broken bottles and glass jars on the shelves rattle and a couple smash against the floor in response, but you're too excited about discovering a secret room to care. You quickly rush over and grab your torch shining it around the room. The walls are lined with undamaged canned goods. Many of them are empty, but you find some canned peaches on one shelf that seem like a five star buffet to you at this point. This must have been an emergency storage area…or someone's secret stash.

Shining your torch deeper into the room, you discover it's the latter. A decomposing corpse lies propped against the back wall clutching one last jar of some kind of canned good. He must have gotten locked in here after being mortally wounded because he died before he could finish everything off. You are startled only for a moment, but if you keep worrying over every dead man you see down here, you won't survive.

Ignoring the body, you blow the dust off the tops of a few of the jars and stuff them into your bag. There are a couple of small, thin jars that are still perfectly usable, so you pack those as well for later use perhaps when you find fresh water. For now, however, you finish packing as much as you can comfortably fit into your bag so it's still a good weight and then sit back and wrench open a can of the peaches, sticking the torch between your feet. It's a little thick and slightly stale tasting, but the sweetness and liquid running down your throat is like the freshest fruit mixed with the purest water to you right now.

You sit and enjoy your gods-knows how old can of peaches, completely apathetic to the rotting corpse right next to you. As you eat, your mind begins to wander again. You try to recall things about your past, how you got here, what you did, who you were, but all you get is a blurry haze and a dull headache. You try to think about the present instead such as where you will go from here. As much as you'd like to, you can't just sit here eating canned peaches all day or you'll end up like the guy next to you.

Picking up your torch and standing up, you walk out of the room still eating your peaches when a sudden shuffling sound catches your ear. It is very faint, but you can hear a heavy dragging noise and a quiet guttural growl coming from somewhere beyond the door leading out to the hallway. You completely forgot how much noise that door opening had made. Stuffing a couple peaches in your mouth, you hurriedly stomp out your torch and squeeze behind the boxes like they were a fort. They didn't seem to have great eyesight, so you figure as long as you're hidden, it'll ignore you. Perhaps it won't come into the room at all.

Suddenly, however, a loud crack shatters the silence of the room as one of the creatures from before slashes the door with its massive claw. The door splinters and shudders in response as the creature slashes again. This time, the door nearly falls off its hinges and with one final slash, the creature bursts through the door in a frenzy, snapping its head in all directions trying to pinpoint your location.

You stifle a gasp and press into the wall behind you as if you could somehow melt into it. The creature paces back and forth for a while, unsure what it was doing there anymore and slowly makes its way towards the door. Suddenly, a bottle shimmies loose from one of the shelves and crashes to the floor. The creature instantly turns around and races at break neck speed towards the shelf. With one massive swing, it carves out three large gashes through the solid stone and bottles and glass fly across the room. The shelf quivers for a couple seconds before crashing to the ground in a flurry of dust and debris.

The creature appears to examine the wreckage and upon sensing nothing, glances around a couple more times before hobbling at a sickeningly slow pace back out the shattered kitchen door and down the stairs.

You curl further into yourself waiting for your racing heart and erratic breathing to find their way back to standard levels. You unconsciously grip the small candle around your neck again. This place is crazy. What the hell did you do to get yourself thrown in here?

When you can finally hear over the sound of your own heartbeats, you gingerly climb out of your hiding place and examine the wreckage of the door and shelf. Debris litters the floor and a cloud of dust still hovers thickly throughout the room. There is no way you could fight one of these things.

Walking over to the remains of your torch, you cautiously pick it up and glance out the door. Nothing. No sound emanates from the hallway save for the crackling of the few torches you lit on the way here. There are no signs the creature was even here and even the oppressive atmosphere that seems to follow the creatures seems to have dissipated.

You relight your torch on the one in the back of the now thoroughly demolished kitchen and make your way back into the hall. You can't help but stop at the splintered doorframe and run your fingers in a sort-of awe over one of the jagged cracks. Calvin's diary runs through your head as a cold shiver shoots down your spine. You can feel a sense of futility slowly building in the pits of your stomach, but you quickly shove it down and, with a determined glare, head back down the treacherous halls.


End file.
